Are you sure you want to delete this post? This action is permanent. Let me try to describe one of the IDP (internally displaced persons) camps by looking at one specifically - the Croix-des-Bouquets camp (see the 3 new photos to the right). This one is relatively small, compared to the vast ones in the bigger category - approximately 400 families and 1500 people. This is one of the least served camps - they have had only one food distribution since the earthquake forced them here, and we were the first mobile clinic they have had (last week). The 'tents' are not really tents, but a collection of bits of cloth, flapping in the wind. Unlike some of the most visible (from the road) camps, they have received no modern tents. When it rains, as it did two nights ago, they must flee to the makeshift church for shelter - it is made of a structure of poles covered by basket weave mats which is a lot more protection than the zero protection of their cloth-covered temporary dwellings. In one of the 3 pictures (to the right), you will see the typical bed setup - no mattress, only cinder blocks covered by a thin sheet. I went back to this camp today to try to find where to take a young boy back who we had taken to Miami-Dade ER hospital on Friday. His leg had been septic and he may have lost his leg, or even his life. I hope to return him to his little orphanage tomorrow (his mom was killed in the January 12th earthquake).

This week we have three teams (2 med teams of 15 and a team of 3 in trauma counselling). Miraculously, people who have never known each other before have melded into one unit, half going to the Chambrun clinic each day and the other half working in refugee (IDP) camps. Yesterday and today, together they saw over 400 patients each day – the debriefing sessions in the evenings are amazing. My job has been to support the IDP camp mobile clinic with various kinds of back-up, including transporting life and death cases to the Miami-Dade trauma (field) hospital. For example, after having delivered meds to the mobile clinic (from the storage point in Chambrun), I was asked to transport an unconscious little girl (7) to the hospital ER. Her name is Beverline, and she had overdosed on some kind of anti-histamine syrup (periactin) – a case of pharmacological baby-sitting. The team in the ER at Miami-Dade is remarkable to say the least: intubation, oxygen, etc. They mobilized 2 or 3 doctors and the same number of nurses in an attempt to save her life. I am awed by their dedication to saving lives! Her little brother, also overdosed in the same way, was brought in by us later, with their aunt (no one knows where their parents are – they are ‘out in the provinces’ is the term used). We saw the two kids last night all hooked up with IVs, etc. sleeping on one camp cot in the semi ICU part of the big ward tent. Beverline was still unconscious, so we’ll see how she is this morning. (Flash: they were both better this morning, and were taken home by their grandmother.)

Dr Don Tillman, physician with this week’s medical team (made up mostly of medical students from Missouri), told an amazing story of a little boy in one of the IDP (internal displaced persons) camp with a sixth digit on each hand that was totally without function and usefulness. Nor did it appear to have bones, only cartilage. After tying up the blood supply at the base, he was able to deftly remove them without too much pain and fuss. He made us laugh when he described how he suggested to the lad to wave ‘bye-bye’ with his five normal remaining fingers. The team this week is extraordinary in so many ways. Everyone pitches in, nothing is taken for granted. And somehow, there always seems to be a spirit of encouragement and motivation. Later in the same day, the good doctor and I took to the Miami-Dade trauma hospital (near the airport) a two-and-a-half year old boy who had been suffering for a long time from a rectal prolapse (hernia) the size of a small adult fist. It looked terrible. After pushing through the guards at the gate (who seem to try to stop everybody), Dr Don met a physician whose shirt label read ‘Paediatric Surgery’. He and Dr Don talked, and within minutes the paediatric surgeon had replaced the prolapsed bowel right in where it belongs, with his hand, and the problem seems to have been solved. He said this works 95 % of the time. The short little mom couldn't believe her eyes, and was so pleased!

Sadly, little Jerika passed away during the night. Other children we took to the U Miami hospital are doing better. Today a large delegation of GAiN (Global Aid Network) associates is arriving here in Port-au-Prince. Some 25 will be bunking in at the house for the next few days (mattresses on the floor...).

The day (Tuesday) started at 5:30 and is now just ending, around 11:30 p.m. Two babies had to be transferred (by me, in this case, in the Mitsubishi) from their/our clinic. One was a dehydrated, malarial and constipated little boy - his mother came along, and you could see the grin of happiness on her face as she saw what was happening to her baby. It ended up being a very mild treatment. I ended up taking them home to Croix-des-Bouquets. The traffic between 6 and 7 p.m. is just crazy and wild. The other little girl, Jerika (see photo at right) was very, very sick, close to death. All the treatment with oxygen and emergency surgery, etc. brought back memories of the two incubators for premies at the Jewish General in Montreal in 1970, with all the monitors and wires connected to twin boys 3 ½ pounds each! Soon, however, they clearly made up for lost time (both the guys now weighing in strongly, and successful in their respective careers: Marc who has a PhD in Conservation Biology, and Tim a practicing physician (Mcgill University) completing his residency in Public Health at UBC. Who knows when they’re so small what they will end up being and doing! And, of course, the same thought goes for the grandkids (Rebecca, Hannah & Alistair). I was deeply moved as I saw some very compassionate volunteers working their hearts out at the trauma hospital.

A 7-month old baby was transferred (in our old school bus), together with her mom, from our mobile clinic to the Miami-Dade International field hospital (near the P-au-P airport). The little girl was suffering from acute malaria, terribly thin, and complete dehydrated, on the point of dying. We will have to get her to take her back to the IDP (internal displaced persons) camp at Lycée Jacques 1st high school in Croix-des-Bouquets where we’re holding one of our clinics this week (long line-ups!).

Please take a look at five new photos, one of a white-bearded gentleman who took on the role of crowd controler during one of the mobile clinics last week, and one of a boy and a woman travelling on donkeys on the Cul-du-Sac Plain, east of Port-au-Prince. The three others were taken at food distributions last week. Now the rains have started, and the weather is much cooler, especially during the night. Until next time...

Yesterday, I spent a lot of time with Esperandieu Pierre, our Haitian partner, and I learned a tonne of things – specially, vital local people and phone numbers, and he loaned me a Haitian cell phone so that I can get in touch with everyone in related disaster response teams and agencies. Speaking French opens so many more doors – the unilingual English-speakers are spoken to with respect, but you can practically feel the relief when whoever it is finds out they can converse with you in French. It changes the whole feeling of these encounters. So far I’m having trouble with my international cell phone. At any rate, I’ve yet to receive or send successfully text messages. However, Beth and I have been able to skype, and even got a webcam video contact for a few minutes tonight. Landlines here are few, and often don’t work. However, there must be millions of Haïti-based cell phones being used in the country. You see them everywhere. A lot of work today and yesterday was done with hundreds of patients with the mobile (the bus!) clinic in one of the IDP camps close to where we live. I’ve added several photos of this clinic.

Good morning! Yesterday was an eventful day. The team went out on the Diesel bus to Chambrun and attended the typically Haitian, boisterously worshipful service led by Pastor Pierre (as he’s called by the people). I had never seen him before in a suit (the Haitian pastor’s uniform, I think). He’s so busy he seems to be pulled in every direction. Said last night that he gets up to 500 text messages and calls a day and, even allowing for some exaggeration, which is a lot by any reckoning. There was a distribution of food bags at the end – it seemed like Christmas. I keep stressing the importance of providing aid to the whole community, and not just to the church. Everyone agrees in principle, but it’s a challenge to really make it happen, which it must, I feel. And when general distribution happens, there are huge problems of security and keeping everything from becoming a riot. There are no simple answers. During the morning two very sick babies were identified, one with hydrocephalus (fluids in the head expanding the skull) and one completely sceptic (whole body infection) and extremely (!) thin. A member of the team asked me to translate with the mother of the first child, and committed to sending down a 3-big-wheel stroller with the next team. The second very sick baby was taken by Diana and Ken (paediatrician and internist) to the University of Miami Trauma (field) Hospital (3 big tents) near the P-au-P airport. Long story short: at last news, the baby’s life was saved. Afterwards, the whole group spent their half day off by going to see the devastation in the centre of Port-au-Prince (see the one new photo) – each one of us trying to process what we saw. Everyone is now coming to life, so I’ve got to stop.